


A Safe Place

by TheStrange_One



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Peter, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Confusion, Consent is Sexy, Conversation, M/M, No Sex, Omega Verse, Omega Wade Wilson, heat - Freeform, hinted past rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2020-10-17 02:28:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20613434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStrange_One/pseuds/TheStrange_One
Summary: When Wade goes into heat, he forgets everything. Everything that makes him HIM retreats into his mind because of his past.Peter makes it his mission to know each heat Wade knows he's a good omega and safe. That he'll never rape Wade or anything. That he'll take care of the omega. Even when past figures show up.New summary is courtesy of  VolenWarren, who wrote a perfect one in the bookmark. And VolenWarren, if you don't like me using this as the story summary, let me know and I'll put it back the way it was.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So. Stuff happened, this is my version of working it out. No details.
> 
> I made the warning as explicit as possible even though I'm as vague as possible. Do with it as you will.

The first thing he noticed was the scent. Cinnamon and cloves with a hint of exhaust, warm and somehow soothing. It was both nostalgic and exciting, warm while giving him delicious chills. He felt comfortable. He felt _safe_.

He was never either of those things. He was always running, hunting, hurting. There was always something horribly wrong. So—the fact that _nothing_ was wrong, was wrong in and of itself.

The next thing he noticed was that he was holding a wrist scent gland to his nose. The scent was coming from the gland. It was a particularly alpha scent. But—why? What alpha would want him?

“Sh,” soothed a voice. Familiar voice, calming voice. “Can you drink some water?” the voice asked as another hand held an open bottle of water near him. He could smell the water cutting through the scent of the wrist. But _could_ he drink it? Without losing the scent?

The answer was, oddly, yes. In a move that told him his body must have worked out how to do this without his knowledge one hand released the wrist to grab the bottle while the other firmly held the wrist in place as he put the bottle to his lips and drank it down to the dregs. The water was cool, soothing. And this close to the wrist is was lightly flavored with that wonderful smell.

“Good,” the voice soothed as the spare hand ran down his back, almost like he was being scented.

No way was he being scented. Alphas didn’t want omegas like him. Didn’t trust omegas like him. Wanted to destroy omegas like him.

“Sh,” the voice came again. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.”

Safe? He was never safe. He knew that. He knew it to his bones.

His body relaxed anyway, under the soothing croon, the soothing caresses. Paradoxically he also curled around the wrist with those wonderful, wonderful scent glands. There was no tinge of sourness to the scent, no hint of worry or disgust. These were great glands.

Wait. How had that happened? How had _he_, lowest of the low, ended up with such great glands?

“You’re not the lowest of the low,” the voice soothed gently, a free hand stroking his cheek.

His eyes opened. He was on the floor, surface hard under his insanely ripped and damaged suit. He saw the scarred, mottled skin that was visible and began to panic.

“Sh,” soothed the voice again, the free hand gently stroking the sides of his face. His _uncovered_ face. “It’s all right,” the voice repeated. “You’re safe. No one is going to hurt you here.”

He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. This person talking to him didn’t know what he was talking about. He let out a gasping hiccup as he tried to laugh and sob at the same time and the scent gland under his nose released another dose of that heady, soothing scent. Soothing. Calming. Making his breathing even out.

“See? It’s okay.”

It wasn’t.

It was.

He opened his eyes again and noticed the litter on the floor around them. Empty water bottles. Torn wrappers, one just intact enough to show that it was for a protein bar. Wherever he was, someone was taking care of him. Keeping him safe. Protecting him, feeding him, not putting him in a cage—

“Easy,” murmured the alpha holding him. “It’s okay.”

But—it wasn’t. He barely registered the small noise of disagreement he made as he curled even tighter around the wrist. He knew it would be yanked away any minute now. Good things always were.

“It’s okay,” the voice soothed again. He could feel gentle stroking along his scalp. “You’re safe; it’s okay.”

The voice kept _saying_ that. That he was safe. That everything was okay. It wasn’t _true!_

He opened his eyes again and looked at the floor. Hardwood. Plain. Empty save for the trash. There was another sound, a low level sound that was just barely loud enough to register. Scent filters. Wherever he was, there were high quality scent filters running, isolating the place inside from the world outside.

He felt himself relax at the realization that no one would be coming in. No one would be hunting him. No one would take away the wrist—until the owner did.

“There you go,” said the owner of the wrist gently, and with real satisfaction. “You’re okay.”

He allowed himself to just—relax. No demands. No screaming. No worries.

He still wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, though. He had gone to the pharmacy…

They’d refused to sell him suppressants. He was told it was his _duty_ to accept anyone willing to be with him during heat, that he didn’t need to suppress his instincts. That he was _wrong_ for wanting the suppressants, despite his prescription for them.

He’d left then, only to see—to see—

—to see Spidey, in trouble. He’d gone to help and—and—

—and he’d gotten shot. Old gun, rotary ammunition, insanely large bullets. They’d taken huge chunks out of his legs, torso, arms—and head. His _head_ had been shot, and wen he came back online he’d gone into heat.

No, he couldn't have. When he came out of heat he was dry, broken, crying. He was never _warm_. He was never _comfortable_.

He had never spent his heat with an alpha.

“Spidey?” he asked, not looking up. He was afraid, terrified that he was hallucinating again.

“You’re back.” The two words were spoken not with revulsion (which he was _intimately_ familiar with), but with—relief? Why would Spidey be relieved?

Oblivious to the thoughts running desperately around his head, Spidey asked, “How do you feel?”

The words were kind, gentle, and soft. Wade wanted to wrap himself up in them. “Okay,” he said.

“Do you remember what happened?” Spidey pressed gently, keeping up the soothing stroking on Wade’s scalp and not reclaiming his wrist.

“I—I went into heat?” Wade asked. No, he knew he did. But—he didn’t remember things from when he was in heat. His therapist had called it a “defense mechanism.” He called it one of the best things he’d ever had happen to him.

“Yes,” said Spidey, still using that soothing tone, still not yanking his arm back. “You went into heat in the alley. I got you to a safe space—Stark has them all over the city—and stayed with you.”

“Why?” asked Wade, in confusion. He hadn’t even thought that Spidey _liked_ him.

“Because you asked me to,” Spidey said, still speaking gently. Still gently stroking Wade’s head, still soothing him.

But—that wasn’t right. Spidey had an entire city to look after. Maybe more, if his buddies the A-Team needed him again. Why would he spend that time looking after Wade?

“You needed me more,” Spidey said firmly. Wade hadn’t even realized he was talking.

He’d needed him. And—and Spidey had stayed, because Spidey was awesome like that. He looked up into the mask. “You’re still wearing your mask,” he said. He didn’t mean it as a complaint—but Spidey had bared his wrists, his scent glands. Wasn’t that more intimate.

“Of course I am,” Spidey said gently, not losing that soothing tone. “My mask has scent blockers in it.”

And he couldn't risk going into a rut with Wade in heat. Of course.

“And,” continued Spidey, just as oblivious to his thoughts as earlier, “the last coherent thing out of your mouth was that you didn’t want anyone to take you during your heat. So, I won’t. Not unless you ask me to.”

It was a good thing that Wade was on the floor, or he would have collapsed. Had Spidey said what he thought? “You would—like to spend a heat with me?” he asked.

Wade could feel Spidey press a kiss through the mask to his head. “Only if you want me to,” the hero said firmly.

Peter sat at his lab station and stared at the screen in front of him. He could tell, from how Deadpool—no, _Wade—_had reacted that the omega had no memory of what had happened during his heat. Had no idea what he’d said. What he’d babbled.

What he’d _begged_.

He took a deep breath and tried to steady himself. It wouldn't do to smash Stark’s equipment. Not at all. It wasn't good for him to sit there, violent schemes running through his mind. He had to put it aside.

On a brighter note, Wade was willing to spend a heat with Peter. Eventually. And Peter was more than willing to wait.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Wade share a heat, on purpose this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. This wasn't going to have a part two. I considered it done until one comment--you know who you are!--and then it just wouldn't let go.
> 
> I hope you enjoy part two.

“And this is the kitchen, but of course you can already see that,” Wade babbled, panic edging in. There was an alpha in his home, and he was about to go into heat. He was about to go into heat, and there was an _alpha_ in his _home_. Where he was _safe_.

Peter, Wade had learned his name earlier, gently reached for and grabbed Wade’s hands. “Hey,” he said softly. “Listen to me.” This close to heat the words had all of the impact of a command. “It’s okay,” Peter said as Wade gave a low whine. The alpha gently tugged him close. “Nothing is going to happen unless you want it to,” Peter said firmly.

A low shudder ran through his body at the contact. How long? How long since someone touched? How long since he wanted to _believe_ someone's words? “But—”

“No,” said Peter firmly. Smooth thumbs lightly traced over the scarred cheekbones. “If you’re not ready for anything else to happen,” Peter told him, “then we can just cuddle where you can scent my glands. Okay?”

Cuddling was nice. Cuddling made Wade feel special, like there was something still good and likable about himself. But—last time, Peter had been wearing the mask with the scent blockers. “Your mask—”

“Isn’t necessary,” Peter reassured the omega fondly.

“Your rut—”

Peter chuckled and stood on tiptoes to press his forehead against Wade’s. “It won’t be the first time I’ve handled a rut by myself, Wade,” he said fondly. “Remember—_nothing_ will happen that you don’t want to.”

A low shudder, both of incipient desire and fear, shook him. He was finding it hard to remember. What had they been talking about? He gave a low, inarticulate whine.

The alpha—kind, _cinnamon cloves exhaust—_let out a small chuckle.

That was good. That was a happy sound. A happy alpha was a good alpha that wouldn't—wouldn’t—

“Sh,” urged the alpha. That scent, _cinnamon cloves exhaust_, got closer. Softer. Sweeter. Stronger. “It’s okay.”

Warned by the previous heat, Peter knew what was happening when Wade suddenly went nonverbal. Instinct and inner omega were taking over, and the part of him that Peter knew, _Wade_, was going to sleep. Wade would be back when everything was over.

Peter had heard of this, in whispers back in college. It had even been vaguely referenced in a class. There were tales that when an omega was treated poorly, horribly, during heat the omega would—retreat. Until the heat was over, there would be nothing of the person that made up the omega under normal circumstances. There would just be the instincts of the heat, and a vague psuedo-personality created from the experiences, almost like another person.

The professor had acknowledged the rumors just long enough to say that they were unsubstantiated, that there was no proof that any such thing had ever happened. After all, as everyone knew, the pheromones of an omega in heat called to the protective instincts of an alpha, making it impossible for the omega to be injured. Impossible, in fact, for anything other than protection and shelter to enter the minds of the alpha attending.

Clearly the professor had been wrong. Peter wasn’t certain what had happened, or when, but clearly Wade had been deeply, horrifically traumatized by the events. This new personality, this subservient begging one, was nothing like the Wade that Peter knew.

Peter gently and carefully, so as not to frighten, moved Wade over to the nest that had been prepared earlier.

Having dated omegas before, Peter was intimately familiar with what a nest _should_ look like. It should be full of soft things, things in the omega’s favorite color, mixed with items that held an alpha’s scent. They were round, often resembling bird’s nests that were made of blankets, pillows, and other items instead of twigs and soft fluff.

Wade’s nest looked nothing like that. He’d upended two large tables, swaddling them with blackout cloth. On the inside he’d lined the edges with a canvas/Kevlar twilled blanket, more than large enough to be tacked to the inside of the tables and walls, to drape in front of the opening. There were pillows in it—every omega’s nest had pillows—but under every pillow (Peter knew, he’d seen Wade making it) were guns. The outside had been decorated with those tree shaped scent neutralizers that every store sold for cars.

Wade’s nest was practically a bunker. The only addition that Peter had made to it was to add several cases of water and protein bars. He didn’t want to think about what it meant that Wade had never even _thought_ of adding them to the nest, and had been surprised when Peter insisted on bringing them in.

Wade whimpered. “Sh,” soothed Peter as the omega dragged his arm, and the attached scent gland, to his nose. “It’s all right,” he said gently. “We’re here. Do you recognize this?”

Wade’s eyes were closed, pressed tightly together. “N—no,” he whimpered. “Can’t—”

Wade had been concerned that the smell of his heat would trigger Peter’s rut. To tell the truth, Peter had been slightly worried about that himself. Oh, he knew he could control himself; he couldn't have done his job as Spiderman in those early days if he couldn't, but he hadn’t been tested in such a long time…

But Wade had had nothing to worry about. The mix of fear, anxiety, and uncertainty in the omega’s scent awakened a protective instinct—nothing more. With the pheromones in the air Peter simply didn’t have the ability to think of Wade as a romantic partner. His instincts were not screaming at him to _claim, breed_; they were screaming _hide, protect._

He was more than willing to let his instincts have their way—this time. He managed to urge Wade into the nest that the omega had prepared, hoping it would make him feel more comfortable. Hoping he’d feel safer.

Instead, almost as soon as they were in the enclosed space together, the panic spiked and Wade curled in on himself, whimpering. “Sh,” Peter soothed gently, rubbing a wrist along Wade’s curved back to gently scent the large omega. As before, the action seemed to sooth Wade, and slowly his posture uncurled from around himself, only to latch onto Peter, shoving his face into the glands on Peter’s neck.

“S’rry,” whimpered Wade. “S’rry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Peter responded, carefully keeping his scent as calming as possible. “You’re good.”

“I’m g’d?”

“Good,” purred Peter.

“I’m g’d.” The omega relaxed, loosening enough that Peter was able to get them both into a comfortable position—or at least a position where Peter could lean against the solid back of the nest. He couldn't see much in the dim light, but he didn’t need to.

Peter reached out and grabbed a water bottle, twisting to open it with one hand. “Here,” he gently urged. “Drink some water.”

Just like the first time, Wade began to shake and cry. Just like the first time, Peter had to put a firm leash on his emotions. He could fantasize about killing whomever had put Wade in this position—later. After the heat. After he was sure the omega was all right.

“It’s just water,” he said softly, gently. “You remember?” he asked waving the opened bottle towards Wade.

A hand groped through the darkness, grabbed the bottle, and the plastic repeatedly hit Peter in the chin as Wade guzzled without leaving the scent glands. The empty bottle was unceremoniously tossed and Peter crooned again. “Good,” he purred. “Good Omega.”

“G’d.”

“Good.”

It was going to be a long heat, for both of them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right. Due to comments from TheRegalHarvester and Yaoigobbler I had to write a third part to this (originally a) one shot.
> 
> This is IT, you understand? I'm not writing any more in this story! LAST CHAPTER!
> 
> Thank you for reading. <3 you all.
> 
> Also--graphic content warning. I'm serious, we're talking some true Reveal Shit going on here people. Tread lightly, with caution. And one eye out for traps because I am evil but will give the boys a happy ending anyway.

“I still don’t see why you can’t do your own dirty work,” Peter complained into the communication device in his ear. Patented Stark tech, it kept him connected to both the trillionaire running the operation and his helpful AI. Out of the two, Peter knew which he preferred. He perched on the outside of the building like a living gargoyle.

“You don’t think it’s important to find the distributor of a heat inducing drug?” demanded the scandalized voice on the other end.

Peter ground his teeth as he heard the unmistakable sound of chewing coming from the other end. He could all too easily picture Tony Stark calmly eating his dinner while the vigilante was staking out a possible drug dealer. He wanted to be upset—but there were good reasons for Stark not to be here.

And Stark was right about the drug. They needed to know who was making it, and how it was being distributed, since victims were being brought in after having been forced into a heat. Both male and female omegas.

“You’re just cranky that you haven’t made progress with your mysterious omega,” said Tony both snarky and accurate.

Peter grit his teeth to keep from replying. He would have liked to reply that while Peter and _Wade_ had made progress, thank you very much, Peter was still in the process of courting Wade’s inner omega. It was a struggle. It was a pain. Peter thought the omega was forgetting every good thing it went through each heat. There was no progress.

There. Movement. What was—was that _Wade_?

Peter stared at the familiar red and black costume as it made its way across the street. What? Why was he here? Curious, he followed.

“What do you want Nate?” Wade asked.

Peter frowned. The man’s voice was tight and angry. Wade didn’t normally speak in that tone—actually, Peter couldn't remember him _ever_ speaking in that tone.

“Spiderman? What’s going on?”

He ignored Stark as he made his way into the building where he could see Wade. Wade, in full Deadpool gear, standing in front of a heavily muscled man with what looked like a metal arm. Wade, who was normally carefree and happy (at least when he wasn’t in heat), stood stiffly, rigidly. Peter had seen metal poles with more give than Wade’s current posture.

The man that he was facing had a cocky, confident pose that made Peter want to simultaneously punch his lights out and glance around to make sure there were no handy lockers to get shoved into. “I have a job for you,” the man said smoothly.

“I don’t do those anymore,” Wade spat.

Whoa. The sheer amount of venom in that sentence made Peter recoil. He’d known that Wade was stopping the merc work, they’d talked about it, but he didn’t know that Wade had developed that level of hatred for what he used to do so—so _joyfully_.

Peter narrowed his gaze through the dust that seemed to be settling through the building—

—no. Not dust. He doubted there was ever a place where dust was a pale lilac in dim light. He couldn’t taste anything on the air—but he wouldn't be able to through the suit.

“Tony,” he said softly, trying not to catch the attention of the two in front of him. “Can this device of yours do a chemical analysis on unknown particles in the air?”

“It can do all that, _and_ tie your shoes,” Tony said cheerfully.

Peter was glad the man couldn't see him roll his eyes. Sometimes he thought Tony just lived to brag. “Thanks,” he said absently before moving just a little closer, staying high on the wall, near the ceiling.

“You owe me,” the man said firmly. Implacably.

“Bullshit!” snarled Wade. “I’ve paid that debt.”

“Oh? Did you forget how I found you?” There was a low sound from Wade and the man continued. “Did you forget what they did? How many there were? Tell me, _Wade_,” the man spat the name as though it were a curse, “did you forget the _cage_?”

Wade was silent. “You broke everything,” Wade said, softly. Peter, with his advanced hearing, almost didn’t hear it.

The man snorted. “You’re better off,” he said. “Do you honestly think that someone like _you_, someone as _broken_ as you, could possibly sit home and play Happy Family?”

Wade gave a low, almost inaudible whine. Peter frowned at the sound. It was—familiar.

“You don’t know I couldn't,” Wade said. The whine started again.

“You? Raise a child? When every alpha you meet wants to _destroy_ you?” The man’s eyes narrowed at Wade.

“That’s not true!” protested Wade.

“They put you in a cage and _buried_ you! Six feet underground! While you were _pregnant_!” The man shook himself. “Face it Wade, you’re too broken for a family. Imagine what the little girl’s life would have been like with _you_ in it.”

Wade gave a loud, low whine.

No. Not Wade.

Wade’s inner omega.

“Peter, that stuff in the air’s the drug!”

Thank you Stark, for your prompt information!

Peter swung down and dropped beside Wade. Beside his mate. True, they hadn’t bonded yet, but they were still mates. He saw the familiar trembling, the step back, and mentally cursed. Wade was going into heat from the drug in the air.

“Who are you?” demanded the man as Peter yanked up a sleeve to expose a wrist gland before bringing it to Wade’s nose.

Peter ignored him. “Hey,” he said, gently. Softly. Hoping the omega would recognize him. “You’re okay,” he said.

The whites of the mask widened and Peter wondered if his scent was going to get through. “’lpha?” asked the omega.

Oh, this was bad. This place was far too open. “Stark, I need the nearest safe space,” he growled through the com. Wade flinched. “Hush Baby,” Peter cooed gently. “It’s okay. I’m going to get you somewhere safe.”

“S’fe?”

“I _said_, who the fuck are you?” demanded the man as he loomed up behind Peter.

Without a thought Peter backhanded the man away from Wade—away from _his_ omega—with a low growl. The man slammed into a wall, denting it and bringing part of the building down on him.

“All right, coordinates loaded to the com, it’ll show you where to go. I’m sending the B’s of the team down to quarantine the building and keep omegas out of the danger zone.”

Even knowing that Stark couldn't see him, Peter nodded. Sending the betas into the area was the smartest move that Stark could make; they couldn't be affected by the drug, and the betas that Stark knew were more than capable of handling a few rogue alphas. “Good,” Peter said before clicking away to the coordinates.

“G’d?” asked Wade hopefully.

Peter tucked himself closer and ran his other wrist along Wade’s back. With the suit on, he couldn't actually scent the omega, but the action seemed to soothe him nonetheless. “Good,” Peter repeated gently. “Come on,” he said putting his arms where they needed to go in order to pick the omega up and carry him—but he did nothing more. He didn’t want to force Wade into anything, especially not now.

“’lpha? S’fe?” asked Wade, warily.

“That’s right,” Peter said, firmly but gently. “I’m going to get you somewhere safe.”

Suddenly Wade latched onto Peter, trembling. Peter took a moment to soothingly rub both hands along Wade’s back before launching the two of them in the air and swinging quickly to the coordinates. The window, as per usual, was left open.

Normally when Peter came across a distressed omega on patrol he’d pick them up, take them to a safe space, show them where the water and food were, and leave them to handle themselves. They were always fine, and several of them (who had no idea that Spiderman was an alpha) had flagged the costumed vigilante down and thanked him for his help. Despite what the Bugle (who firmly advocated that omegas were “meant” to “indulge” in their heats and in the attentions of anyone willing to attend them whether they wanted said attention or not) said, helping these omegas was necessary.

Wade was different. Peter didn’t want to help him because he was _omega_, but because he was _mate_. The two of them had always had a—dynamic between them that Peter missed when Wade was deep in the recesses of his mind. Peter let them in and locked the window behind him as he carefully shot web at the cases of water and protein bars before yanking them closer. Wade wasn’t leaking _yet_, but it would start soon as his heat began in earnest.

“There we are,” Peter said as he settled, back against the wall under the window. He yanked the mask off and Wade abandoned the wrist gland for the stronger scent of the neck glands. “All safe,” Peter repeated gently as he pulled a bottle of water out of the package and opened it.

Wade began to shake and cry. “N’t!” he protested. “N’t s’fe!”

“Yes, you are,” Peter said gently, firmly. He set the bottle down and freely scented the costume. “I won’t let anyone hurt you,” he said to his friend, his partner, his _mate_. No one would hurt Wade. “Come on,” he urged gently. “Drink some water.” Wade grabbed the bottle and downed it before tossing the plastic. “Good,” Peter said approvingly. He scented the omega again and Wade began, slowly, to relax. “Good omega.”

“’M’ga. G’d ‘m’ga.”

“That’s right Wade,” Peter said firmly. “You are a good omega.”

“N’t b’d?” asked Wade.

“No,” said Peter. He stroked the sides of Wade’s face through the mask, wishing he could feel the textured, scarred skin beneath it. “Not bad. Good.”

“’lpha stay?” asked Wade pitifully. Brokenly.

“Yes, Wade,” Peter replied, heart breaking. “I’ll stay.”

“How long?”

“As long as you want me to.”

Wade remembered meeting Nathan. Remembered the conversation, vaguely. Something about a job—what had happened?

“Hey,” said a tired voice. Wade looked up into Peter’s face, and the younger man smiled. “Back with me?” he asked, teasing.

“Peter?” asked Wade. He looked around. They weren’t in either apartment, and Wade’s last heat had been only two weeks ago. Normally his heats were like clockwork. “What happened?” he asked as he tried to force the scattered remnants of his memory to collide.

Normally he didn’t bother. He knew, going into a heat with Peter, that he was safe. That he’d be cared for. That nothing would happen if Wade didn’t want it to.

But—waking up like this meant that he’d gone into heat somewhere else and that Peter had gotten them to a safe place. Not one of the ones that Wade had built (after waking up in the first one he’d decided to make his own little hidey-holes all over the city), but one that was almost just like the first one. Which meant—Wade had already been well into his omega state when Peter had brought him here.

Peter wearily rubbed at his face with one hand, the other still lazily scenting Wade’s suit. Wade’s now very disgusting suit, if he was honest. “There’s a drug that Stark’s been tracking,” Peter said. “It forces an omega into heat, and you came into contact with it.”

Wade’s breath hitched. Nate hadn’t liked being told no, had never liked it. Had Nate drugged him? It wouldn't be the first time. “I was—arguing with Nate,” he said weakly. How much had Peter heard? How much did Peter know? He found himself flushing with shame under the suit, grateful for the mask he was still wearing.

“I heard. Real charmer. I bet he makes a lovely wall support.” Peter watched Wade warily. “Do you—want to talk about it?” he asked.

Wade curled around his friend, his mate and idly picked at the sleeve of Peter’s spider suit. He didn’t want to talk about it, because he _never_ talked about it—

—but this was _Peter_, his alpha. Peter was always safe, would never hurt him. “I called her Ellie,” he said, softly. Peter wrapped his arms around Wade and listened.

With every word he felt better. Not happier, exactly. Healed. Healing. After all, he was in a safe place now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nathan's referencing Weapon X, btw. The bastards just won't die.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter learns where Ellie is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I had one more chapter for this. And only because of Covid-19 and the headspace that severe overwork put me in. Also, this is the only chapter that Wade doesn't go into heat in. And this chapter also exists because of a comment by Emmi1D4life, who asked what happened to the baby. So. Here we are. I hope anyone who reads it enjoys this chapter as much as the previous ones. I hope so because I intend (I would say I never will, but we know how well that works) to end it here. Ending, enjoy, please don't ask for more.

Tracking down the cyborg was hard. Peter was only slightly hampered by the fact that the rogue alpha wasn’t actually of his own time. After all, the man spent time in Peter’s time. And Peter knew not one, but _two_ AIs willing to help him find the alpha who had hurt his mate.

Who had drugged his mate.

Who was still hunting for his mate, despite having been knocked into a wall the last time the two of them met. Seemed Wade’s old buddy _Nate_ didn’t understand that Wade had a mate now, and a protective one at that.

Still, Peter had to admit that _Nate_ hanging around the city was good for something else. There were answers that he was going to get out of the alpha, if he had to hold him upside-down and beat him half to death to get them. He’d be shocked at the violence he was contemplating—if it hadn’t been for what had happened last time that _Nate_ had been in the city. What he’d done to Wade.

All things considered, Peter thought he was being very restrained when the only thing he did when he finally tracked the mutant cyborg down was restrain him. Perhaps firing webbing and sticking the alpha to a wall hadn’t been the healthiest opening he could/should have done—but the slight violence in the act made him feel better. And he could only throw webbing so hard; he wasn’t in danger of accidentally hurting the other alpha.

No, any damage done would be 100% intentional.

The one human eye glared at Peter as he dropped from his hidden position. “What do you want?” the alpha barked roughly.

_To punch your smug face in until you resemble a piece of flatbread._ “To talk,” Peter said, keeping his voice as level as possible.

_Nate_ snorted. “Talk. After you threw me into a wall and now this.”

Fury burned through Peter and he had to clench his teeth and fists for a moment to keep from attacking the bound man. He didn’t attack helpless people and with the amount of webbing that Peter had used the cyborg was definitely in the helpless category. At least for now. Peter toyed wit h the idea of freeing him from the webbing just so he could beat the crap out of him. No, that was a bad idea. That went against everything he’d been trying to teach Deadpool.

“You,” Peter grit through clenched teeth, “were harassing my mate. You’re lucky that’s _all_ I did.”

“You haven’t claimed him.” The words were spoken flatly, without inflection.

Peter bristled anyway. Of course he hadn’t claimed Wade yet—a bonding claim could only be done during heat and Wade’s omega wasn’t comfortable enough with Peter yet for a bonding bite. He wasn’t going to force the issue either. “Changes nothing,” he growled. He could feel the tingling in his eyes meaning they were changing color—and that forced him to do some deep breathing in order to force himself to calm down. He couldn't risk losing control; he’d been holding back his ruts for far too long. “Wade,” he said firmly, “is still my mate.”

“And you’re cherishing him.” This time the cyborg sounded surprised.

Peter still wanted to punch him. Instead he crawled partly up the wall opposite the bound alpha to force himself to keep his distance. If he started hitting, he knew he wouldn't stop.

“And what do you want to talk about?” asked the bound alpha, sounding curious.

“Ellie.”

The eye widened in surprise. “He— _told_ you?”  _Nate_ sounded confused.

“We don’t have a lot of secrets from each other,” Peter said.

The eye looked him up and down. “You’re in costume.”

“We don’t have a lot of secrets from _each other_,” Peter reiterated. “Now. Ellie.”

The gaze hardened. “What about her?”

“Where is she?”

The eye widened again. Peter was starting to get a little nervous about that because the rest of his face didn’t move. “ He was broken. There was no way for him to care for an infant.”

“Did you even _try_ to help?” Peter demanded.

The eye narrowed. “I,” and there was an undercurrent of rage in the voice, “dug him up from where they buried him. Alive. Six months along.”

“I heard you the first time.” Peter took another deep breath to keep from _murdering_ the alpha in front of him. He released the breath. In the end, it had happened in the past. Peter couldn't change the past. All he could do was deal with what was in front of him.

And boy, did he want to  _deal with_ what was in front of him.

Patience. Control. Those were the important things. The only things keeping him from attacking the restrained, helpless alpha in front of him. “Where is she?” he demanded again.

The lips curled up in a sneer eerily reminiscent of the ones that had frequently graced the face of Green Goblin. “ You would take a child away from her loving family?”

“I would let _her parent_ know she has one,” Peter countered. He paused, and then smiled. “And you’re not going anywhere until you tell me.”

“You can’t stay here all night.”

“Try me.”

Wade paced the apartment nervously. He wasn’t certain why he’d agreed that he and Peter should move in together; neither of them really seemed to spend much time at home. One or the other of them always seemed out.

Like now. Peter was out now. Peter was out and not here. But why would he be here? It wasn’t like the two of them were officially bonded, or anything.

No, it wasn’t like that. Peter said he hadn’t bonded them because Peter’s omega wasn’t ready for the bite. And Wade’s omega needed to hurry the fuck up and get ready because without a bond Peter could easily go for another omega. A cute omega; one that wasn’t broken.

No. No, Peter loved him. Said so all the time. Ran soothing warm baths (not hot, because hot irritated) when his skin was having a Bad Day. Made sure he ate good, wholesome food and not tacos all the time because tacos all the time aren’t quite healthy even if you can argue that they have all the food groups in them  _Wade_ . And Peter took time off both work and Spiderman duties to see Wade through his heat and make sure the omega had everything he needed to get through a heat as safely and comfortably as possible.

The heats that Peter refused to bond with Wade during because his “inner Omega isn’t ready for that.”  Fuck that bitch. He wanted to bond to Peter. He  _needed_ the permanency of a bond. Every time Peter was somewhat late he was afraid his (almost) mate had decided that Wade was too much trouble to deal with and gone searching for greener pastures.

He didn’t know what to do. Peter had already told him that he wasn’t going to force the issue, but Wade needed it to happen. He felt like a disposable add-on to Peter’s life, and that hadn’t changed after the two of them had moved in together.

There were two quick taps on the window, Peter’s code (that he’d come up with after Wade almost blew his head off the first few days they were living together) that it was Peter at the window and not an intruder. Wade uncurled from the ball he’d tucked himself in as Peter came into the room.  Maybe Peter wouldn't notice that he’d been in one of his spirals again.

He should have known better. Peter noticed everything. Peter took off his mask, dropped the take-out bags of food on the counter, and strode over to Wade before reaching up and cupping his cheek. “You okay?” he asked softly, gently, warmly.

Not for the first time, Wade wondered if he was having a particularly vivid hallucination. The idea that this man, this beautiful man, actually gave two fucks about him (even if he  _still_ wouldn't fuck him during heat) was almost impossible to believe. But Peter’s hand was warm and soft and strong against his cheek. “I’m okay,” he lied.

Peter sighed and let his head come down to rest on Wade’s chest. “Liar,” he accused without heat. “Well, I got dinner. And your favorite,” he added as he went back to the counter and opened the air-tight, insulated bag he’d gotten dinner in.

Wade nearly swooned as the  smell of Mexican (real Mexican not that cheap Taco Bell shit) wafted out of the bag. Peter grinned, grabbed the bag, and pulled Wade towards him until the two of them were sitting on the floor, Wade cradled in Peter’s grip.

It wasn’t until six tacos in that Wade’s brain finally kicked in and realized something. Lately, Peter had only been bringing home tacos as a treat, or when Wade was having an especially bad day. While Wade  _had_ been having a bad day, Peter hadn’t been there to know. And the two of them weren’t bonded yet, so Peter couldn't sense Wade’s emotions through the bond. So Peter had been fully expecting something else to give Wade a bad day.

They (probably) weren’t breaking up. Wade couldn't see Peter cuddling him so close if they were breaking up. “ What’s going on?” he asked putting taco number seven down (on the plate in his lap, because they weren’t animals).

Peter sighed and gently rubbed Wade’s shoulder. “I was hoping you’d get through the tacos first,” he admitted. Wade’s stomach began to roil, threatening the treat he’d just eaten. “I tracked down your old buddy  _Nate_ today.”

Wade flinched at the sheer and utter loathing that coated the name that came out of Peter’s mouth. It wasn’t a tone he was used to hearing from Peter (although he had heard it before from other people) and it was kind of shocking. “What—what did you talk about?”

Peter was silent for a long moment.

Oh, God. This was it. Nate had told him everything and Peter had decided that he didn’t want someone so messed up in his life right now and had given him the tacos to treat him in order to feel better about throwing him out—

“I learned where Ellie is,” Peter said, interrupting the thoughts.

What? Ellie? Wade’s heart stopped for a moment and chill ran through him.

Ellie.

The baby girl.

That Cable had taken away.

He’d never even been able to hold her.

Wade didn’t realize he was crying until Peter was cuddling him even closer and gently brushing tears off his face. “She’s—okay?” he asked. The hardest part was that—he’d never known. Nate had never even spoken of Ellie; not if she was healthy, not if she was sickly, if she was happy… 

Wade just wanted to know his little girl was happy.

Peter  gave a low, comforting rumble. “She’s fine. I spoke with her adopted family.”

Peter had done that? But why? He was an alpha, and Ellie wasn’t his.

Peter kissed his forehead. “But  _you_ are,” said Peter. “And Ellie is yours, so that makes her mine, too.”

“_That makes her mine, too.”_

Wade was crying for an entirely different reason as the sentence echoed through the head. Peter, despite not having officially bonded with Wade, was still claiming Wade as his own. Despite everything, in spite of everything. Wade gave a low, pleased little whine as Peter gently ran a wrist down Wade’s back, scenting him.

The sunlight was warm where it dappled through the leaves. Children made a loud ruckus as they screamed and played on the equipment. The sun heated the pine straw just enough to make it fragrant on the ground. 

Wade’s hand in Peter’s gripped painfully tight. Peter found he didn’t mind, despite the pain. Despite the look of near terror on Wade’s face. Wade, who could face down an entire armed cartel without blinking and usually in song, was terrified of the thought he was going to see his daughter after six long years.  Part of the issue was probably that Peter had convinced him to go in civilian clothes today, only hiding in a large hoodie.

Preston, the woman that had adopted Ellie (and Peter begrudgingly gave the cyborg a little credit for telling Preston that the baby’s name was the one that Wade had given her while pregnant), had been understanding. Peter had told her a slightly redacted version of the truth: Wade had given birth to Ellie, but had been in a bad place mentally. Still had his bad days but had more good ones lately, and that he just wanted to know that Ellie was happy and healthy. The two of them didn’t even have to meet; Peter just wanted to set up a situation where Preston was taking Ellie to the park to play and Wade would be there to see his daughter. Preston had been game for the idea, even suggesting a park with multiple shaded, semi-isolated rocking benches to minimize the chances of actual interaction.

“What if she hates me on sight?” Wade whined softly.

Peter pulled him close and kissed his cheek. “We’re not interacting today,” he gently reminded. “Just observing. Just seeing that she’s happy, healthy, and  thriving.” Ellie  _was_ thriving; Peter had made sure of it. 

“Okay. Okay. I can do this,” Wade said.

“Yo, you gonna smooch and block the track all day, or are ya gonna find a niche like all the other romantic twits at the park?” The two of them turned to see a little girl, poofy tight curls pulled back in a ponytail with a Hello Kitty band aid on her nose, leaning on the handles of a scooter. Her chocolate skin spoke of a diverse heritage. Her pout and eyes were all Wade.

Wade stared and Peter knew that his mate’s mouth had gone dry and his brain had gone off line. “Sorry,” he said as he gently guided the two of them off the paved path and out of the child’s way. “He has a little bit of social anxiety, so we’ve been moving slow.”

The girl lazily blew and popped a bubble from her gum as she looked at him. “Yeah, good place for that,” she said. “Mom brings us here for the same reason; my little brother’s a social  _mess_ and school starts next month.”

Peter smiled at her. The attitude was just like Wade—with less cussing. “Thanks,” he said.

She looked at them and her eyes narrowed as she shifted her weight mostly onto the scooter. “He’s staring at me,” she accused.

Once again, Peter stuck with the complete truth. “He lost his daughter some time ago,” he said softly. “She’d be your age now.”

“Well, that sucks.” Peter couldn't help but smile at the kid’s bluntness. Suddenly she pointed to Wade. “You should have a new kid. Your old one wouldn't want you moping around all the time.” She started off on the scooter.

Wade found his voice. ‘If I had a daughter,” he said thickly, through his tears, “I’d want her to be just like you.”

The girl paused, looked back, and grinned. Once again Peter was struck with the similarity between her smile and Wade’s. “Cool. I’ll have to tell Mom you said that the next time I forget to load the dishwasher.” She pushed off.

Wade leaned against Peter, who easily held the bulk of his mate’s weight. “She’s so pretty.”

Peter grinned. “Yup.”

“And nice.”

Peter nuzzled at Wade’s neck. “She is.”

“We should leave before she circles back around.”

Peter chuckled. “All right.” As they made their way out of the park he made eye contact with Preston and waved at her. She nodded back, slight smile on her lips.

When they were back in the car Wade asked, “We should have a baby. You and me. Together.”

Peter reached over and pulled Wade in for a kiss. “Not until you’re ready,” he said firmly.

“Aw,” whined Wade. But Peter could see, as he pulled out of the parking lot, that a smile was tugging at the lips of his mate, ruining his pout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes, Peter left Nate secured to the wall.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellie is spending more time with Peter and Wade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. It was asked for. It's been one of those weeks so I worked on this. Please, enjoy. And (you know who you are) you asked for Wade and Peter with a kid--here's Wade and Peter with a kid. (Their relationship isn't up to them having one of their own yet.)

“So, like, how do you know my mom?” asked Ellie as she and Wade made their way through the grocery store.

Wade internally panicked. What was he supposed to say? What had Preston said? Oh, God, what if he said the wrong thing and scarred his daughter for life?

“Dude, it’s _just_ syrup,” Ellie said. “No need for a panic attack over _syrup_.”

Distantly Wade wondered just which bastard contributed to Ellie’s parentage or if he really was just that bad. “It’s not _just_ syrup,” he said as though scandalized. “It’s _maple_ syrup. Actually, it’s flavored corn syrup—water?” he demanded, thoroughly scandalized for real now. “They—they didn’t just _artificially_ flavor it, they watered it _DOWN?”_

Ellie, champion that she was, plucked the bottle of syrup out of Wade’s hands and put it back on the shelf. “So, no syrup then,” she said calmly before grabbing the edge of the cart to nudge him with it.

Wade took the cue, but grumbled about it as he grabbed the cart. “It’s a disgrace, a real disgrace. Like, I can understand why some of the unfortunately more southern states can’t have real maple syrup, but come on! Canada is literally _right there_, land of the maple trees! It’s a disgrace, I tell you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said the girl grumpily.

For a brief moment Wade could almost see Peter in her. Which was ridiculous. She and Peter weren’t even related.

Of course, as far as Ellie knew, she wasn’t related to Wade either.

He wasn’t entirely certain what was going on as far as the girl was concerned. Neither him nor Peter had expected to see her after that one day, to make sure that she was alive and well. And happy. His baby girl deserved to be happy.

And then Preston had called, asking if he and Peter would watch Ellie for the weekend. They had, of course (and after hiding all of Wade’s weapons) agreed. They had figured it would have been a one-time thing.

It was not. Gradually, the amount of time that Ellie spent with Peter and Wade increased until she was spending about half of her time with them. Sometimes, if her school (they were closer to her school than Preston was) was having some kind of event that Ellie wanted to attend, she spent the night at their place instead of commuting the extra hours. Which Wade, and Peter (of course) approved of—but the fact of the matter was that they weren’t sure why it was happening.

Wade was not going to complain. Until he’d met Peter he just hadn’t had a lot of good in his life, and he wasn’t about to look the gift of his daughter’s time in the mouth like a cheap horse. And she was about to spend the longest amount of time with them that she ever had: almost two whole weeks. That was why they were at the store, trying to figure out what she wanted to eat in that time.

She ate everything they put on the table and didn’t really seem to have strong opinions on food. Unless it was burned. Then she had _very_ strong, _very _verbal objections to the food. But otherwise, food seemed to just be food to her.

“Come _on_,” Wade whined. “There’s gotta be something you like. Something you don’t like. Something you have opinions about!”

Ellie stopped walking and looked at him. “I don’t like brussel sprouts,” she said finally.

Wade slumped over the cart. “That’s cheating!” he protested. “No one likes brussel sprouts!”

Ellie rolled her eyes. “_Someone_ must like them,” she argued. “They’re literally in every store.”

“That’s because the majority of the public have been brainwashed into thinking that they’re doing something good for their bodies by eating food they hate,” explained Wade. He stood up and the back of his hoodie got caught in his belt, yanking the hood off his head. “It’s all a scam set up by the agriculture industry,” Wade continued, well and truly in his zone.

“You freak!” snarled a voice before Wade was pushed forward.

Ellie caught him and then glared behind him. “Watch it, turd!” she snarled.

“Don’t you snarl at _me,_” growled the alpha. “Freaks like him shouldn't be in public like this. It’s obscene!”

Obscene? Oh, right, Wade’s hood fell back. Peter, Ellie, and Preston didn’t remark on the scars, so he’d forgotten that he couldn't just walk around in public like a normal person. Pity he didn’t have the swords with him—no one came near him with the swords.

But Ellie didn’t know that Wade was Deadpool, and Wade wasn’t certain he wanted her to know. Peter had said that it was his decision, and he was going to follow Wade’s lead when it came to Ellie. But Peter _would_, because he was great like that.

Wade didn’t realize that he’d checked out of the conversation until he heard Ellie say, “You’re not a _real_ alpha.”

Oh, _Hell_ no! Even at his worst, Wade knew better than to tell alphas that they weren’t real alphas. (He’d done it anyway, because he hadn’t cared, but he cared about his daughter.) “Ellie!” said Wade, shocked.

“He’s not!” Ellie turned to him, eyes blazing with righteous fury. “A _real_ alpha,” she sneered back up at the older male, “doesn’t insult random omegas shopping. A _real_ alpha doesn’t _need_ to use his designation like a club!”

The man’s face grew red and he growled, low and threatening, before pulling a fist back.

To punch Ellie.

Wade, with reflexes born from years of work in the mercenary field, grabbed Ellie and pulled her back with one hand using the momentum to put force behind his leg which he used to kick the strange alpha away. “Back off!” he growled at the stranger.

The alpha hit a display of canned goods and the fell on him. He shook the cans off with a low, threatening growl. As he stood up, Wade could see the red rimming his eyes as he glared at Wade and Ellie.

Without conscious thought an answering growl rose from Wade’s chest. The growl of an omega wasn’t as naturally deep or bone shaking as an alpha’s, but was potent all the same. A store assistant hurriedly ran to the area and put a huge cardboard shield to block the sights between the two of them while liberally dousing the area with a scent remover.

Wade turned his attention to Ellie. “Are you all right?” he demanded as he checked. She didn’t seem to be hurt. Nothing seemed to be broken, there didn’t seem to be blood; if there were bruises it was from Wade yanking her out of harm’s way.

Ellie yanked away. “I’m _fine_,” she spat. She glared at the cardboard barrier.

Wade sighed, partly in exasperation, partly in pride. His baby girl wasn’t going to back down from anything! “Ellie,” he said gently, “you can’t go around challenging strange alphas. It’s not safe.”

“He _insulted_ you!” growled Ellie.

An actual growl. Too young yet to determine if she was going to present as either alpha or omega, but it was obvious that she was going to be one of the two. Betas didn’t growl.

Another employee went up to Wade and Ellie. “We’re sorry for the inconvenience,” the woman said, keeping her voice low and soothing. “Do you mind if we take you to the side? Just until we clear him out of the store?”

Wade knew what they were really asking, of course. And he knew both what he wanted to say, and what he _would_ say. He couldn’t go smashing his way through the store with Ellie in two. He nodded and, gripping Ellie’s shoulders tightly, followed the woman through the store.

“So now all you have to is input the numbers into the right columns,” said Peter calmly as he showed Preston how the software worked.

Preston sighed and ran a hand over her face wearily. Originally, she wasn’t going to ask Peter and Wade for help. Technically, she still hasn’t. They noticed (of course they did) that she was sending Ellie to their place more often and for longer periods of time. Naturally they’d wanted to know why.

She was glad that she’d told Peter the truth about her ex. What he’d done. What he’d planned to do. How she hadn’t been able to get rid of him because no one at the police station took her complaint seriously.

She _never_ would have brought it up. Even with them bringing it up, she still wouldn't have said anything. Except that Peter had just come over after her ex had left after breaking her front windows and pissing on her door. She’d been so frightened and rattled and the story had just spilled from her lips as she’d begged Peter that he and Wade take Ellie for just a little longer, just long enough to get the damage cleaned up so the child wouldn't have to worry…

They’d done more than that. Preston wasn’t certain what he’d told Wade, but he and Ellie hadn’t come over that night. Peter had helped fix the windows and clean the urine, and at no point (unlike the police) had he said that it was _her_ fault. At no point did he say that she deserved this for trying to live with an alpha when she was just a beta.

And this? Helping her with a program so that she could easily balance the finances? It was easily above and beyond the call of duty.

“Thank you, Peter,” she said. Relief filled her. She could do this; she could. She could be financially independent, and Ellie had somewhere safe to go if the ex came back.

Peter simply smiled. “Not a problem, Preston. Would you mind giving me some info on your ex? I have some—contacts from my old job that might be able to help.”

Preston was about ready to give Peter anything he asked for. Giving him the details she knew about her ex was a small price to pay for all his help. She didn’t ask who his contacts were, or why he was certain that they’d help when the police hadn’t. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“Thank you,” Peter said with another winning smile as he tucked the paper into his pocket. He stood up and made his way to the door, where his coat was hanging. “Don’t worry too much,” he said. “I’m sure it will all be fixed soon.”

At that moment Peter’s phone, which was in his coat pocket, started to ring. He pulled the phone out and answered it. “Hello? What? You’re _where_? Why?” He nodded, hung up, and gently put a hand on Preston’s shoulder. “Ellie and Wade are at the police station,” he told her solemnly.

Peter wasn’t certain what he’d expected to find when he got to the police station. He had thought it would be bloody, that maybe Wade had been arrested, or maybe there’s been a mental break of some kind, or some prissy idiot had decided (again) that Wade had kidnapped Ellie and called the police to report it. He was slightly shocked to find that Wade was sitting in a chair—clearly not under any kind of arrest—with his head in his hands as Ellie slouched in the chair next to him, arms crossed in front of her chest as she glared at the world around her.

Preston sighed. “Ellie,” she said, lightly scolding, “did you start a fight again?”

Ellie’s lips curved in a sneer. “I didn’t start anything!” she growled.

Peter, noticing the growl under the tone looked at the girl with a new light. She was about presentation age, wasn’t she? Poor kid; he remembered his own puberty far too well.

Wade looked up. “Peter,” he said, a mix of relief and chagrin on his face. The hood that he always wore when he was out in public started to fall back and he grabbed the fabric and pulled it forward.

That was when Peter knew what happened. Wade’s hood must have fallen back, someone made an insulting remark, Ellie leaped to Wade’s defense, and Wade did his best to protect her, Creating An Incident. Peter didn’t have to look around to know that the person who was responsible for the situation wouldn’t be in the police station; they never were.

Peter was caught with conflicting emotions. On the one hand, he wanted to sit Ellie down and explain in clear and concise terms why what she’d done was wrong and how it could have endangered her badly. On the other hand, he wanted to pat her back and buy her an ice cream as he told her how proud he was of her, good job standing up for people kid.

“Ellie,” said Preston with a sigh. The woman pinched the bridge of her nose.

One of the officers swerved to meet the two of them. “Don’t be too hard on the girl,” the officer, an alpha by the scent (most officers were alphas) said. “She was acting in defense of the omega she’s with. Alpha walked by and started insulting the omega and the girl defended them. Things didn’t get physical until the alpha tried to assault the girl, and then the omega’s protection instincts kicked in. Luckily,” the officer continued, oblivious to the distaste the crude report left in Peter’s mouth, “no harm was done to either of ‘em. Got the alpha locked up in holding.” The officer shook their head. “A disgrace to alphas that one. Your girl will be a credit when she finishes presenting.”

Ah. So _that_ was why this was being taken seriously: the officers thought that Ellie was presenting as alpha. Which, like the rest of the words of the speech, only showed how innately sexist the officer was. In Peter’s experience omegas were just as likely to be violent as alphas were—it was just less excused in society. And alphas were just as likely to be protective as omegas were—it was just less remarked on.

Take Deadpool for instance. People had been (and some still were) certain that the merc _had_ to be an alpha with the way that he slaughtered his targets. And his target’s bodyguards. And sometimes his target’s shrubbery. Point was, they thought the rampaging damage had been done by an alpha. Certain members of the Avengers (whose name rhymed with _macaroni_) still thought that Deadpool was an alpha.

Conversely, many people had believed that Spider-Man was an omega. His staunch “no kill” policy was pointed to, in many circles, as proof that he had the innate qualities of an omega. The way that he wrapped his enemies in web was quoted as a “misplaced desire to nest.” There was one researcher who swore that it was obvious that Spider-Man was an omega who had discovered they were infertile because of all the listed reasons.

Peter had laughed so hard when he heard that, he’d gotten physically ill.

Peter sighed and reached out to Wade. “Are you ready to go home?” he asked.

Wade looked up and only now did Peter see the red rimmed eyes. “I couldn't get the groceries,” he complained.

Poor Wade. He took the chore of feeding all of them very seriously. “We’ll stop by the store on the way home,” Peter promised as he helped Wade out of the chair. The larger man clomped down on Peter and thrust his nose into the crook of Peter’s neck with a low whine. He hugged his mate and gently rubbed his back. “Come on; let’s go home,” he said gently. He looked over at the others. “Preston, Ellie, would the two of you like to come with us?” he asked.

Ellie scowled at him. “If anyone else calls Wade a freak, I’m gonna kick their ass!” she announced.


End file.
